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Thesaya posted:Leave the card, steal his trousers. We can leave him practising his Lego Movie routine. "Honey, where are my pants?"
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May 9, 2015 15:27
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Grimwit posted:>look at scratches You don't fool us like that! >Bounce on the bed
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May 10, 2015 16:58
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Seyser Koze posted:Actually, x Michael and see if he has anything that could be described as "the charm against the..." on his person. Having met our husband, I think we can be reasonably certain that he doesn't have any sort of charm. Let's hit the attic.
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May 12, 2015 00:39
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Sally Forth posted:Poke the painting in the eye, using the broom handle if necessary. We need to do this. Everything else can wait.
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May 14, 2015 19:19
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Grimwit posted:A group of primitive tribesmen dance within a ring of standing stones, beneath a lightning-streaked sky. Their dress and some of the fetishes they carry -- feathers, rattles, ceremonial masks -- all seem to represent a Native American culture, but the men themselves are... strange. They look truly savage and degenerate, in a way that you don't often see Native Americans depicted. Peering closely, you can see that some of them even appear to be deformed. Degenerate natives! We're really in Lovecraft territory now.
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May 15, 2015 18:55
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Ghostwoods posted:It certainly captures the Lovecraftian sense of doomed endeavour and pointlessness rather nicely. I have to disagree. Miranda's inevitable death and/or insanity at the end of the game without having made any serious impact on anything would capture Lovecraftian hopelessness. Dying to a poisonous spider bite in a matter of minutes (in a cold climate, no less) mainly captures the sense of a bullshit text adventure.
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May 16, 2015 21:20
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It breaks my heart to say this, but there's no way we're getting out of this without a sacrifice. Without paying some deep and terrible personal cost. We're going to have to give up on our hopes and dreams of domestic bliss, of the joys of motherhood, of hearing the pitter-patter of tiny grabbing fingers as we raise a family of little kleptomaniacs just like us. Kick our husband in the bollocks.
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May 17, 2016 22:58
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Grimwit posted:For a moment you find yourself almost turning back, driven by instinct to rescue your belongings -- but you stop. ...when you realise that everything you have ever owned is right here in your trenchcoat. This has been a really interesting game, thanks for the LP! Also, I love that spiralling-into-oblivion picture.
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Jun 4, 2016 23:38
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